Dug. Why, Sir, you've cast your skin sure, you're brisk and gay, lusty health about you, no sign of age but your silver hairs. Dug. But, sister, you remember that upon my going abroad you would choose this old gentleman for your guardian; he's no more quick-related to our family than Prester John, and I have no reason to think you mistrusted my management of your fortune therefore, pray be so kind as to tell me without reservation the true cause of making such a choice. Old Mir. Silver hairs! Then they are silver hairs, Sir. Whilst I have golden pockets, let my hairs be silver an they will. Adsbud, Sir, I can dance, and sing, and drink, and no, I can't wench. But, Mr. Dugard, no news of my son Bob in all your travels? Dug. Your son's come home, Sir. Old Mir. Come home! Bob come home! By the blood of the Mirabels, Mr. Dugard, what say ye? Ori. Mr. Mirabel returned, Sir? Dug. He's certainly come, and you may see him within this hour or two. Old Mir. Swear it, Mr. Dugard, presently swear it. Dug. Sir, he came to town with me this morning; I left him at the Bagnieurs, being a little disordered after riding, and I shall see him again presently. Old Mir. What! and he was ashamed to ask a blessing with his boots on. A nice dog! Well, and how fares the young rogue, ha? Dug. A fine gentleman, Sir. He'll be his own messenger. Old Mir. Å fine gentleman! But is the rogue like me still? Dug. Why yes, Sir; he's very like his mother, and as like you as most modern sons are to their fathers. Old Mir. Why, Sir, don't you think that I begat him? Dug. Why yes, Sir; you married his mother, and he inherits your estate. He's very like you, upon my word. Ori. And pray, brother, what's become of his honest companion, Duretete ? Dug. Who, the captain? The very same he went abroad; he's the only Frenchman I ever knew that could not change. Your son, Mr. Mirabel, is more obliged to nature for that fellow's composition than for his own: for he's more happy in Duretete's folly than his own wit. In short, they are as inseparable as finger and thumb; but the first instance in the world, I believe, of opposition in friendship. Old Mir. Very well: will he be home to dinner, think ye? Dug. Sir, he has ordered me to bespeak a dinner for us at Rousseau's, at a louis-d'or a head. Old Mir. A louis-d'or a head! Well said, Bob; by the blood of the Mirabels, Bob's improved. But Mr. Dugard, was it so civil of Bob to visit Monsieur Rousseau before his own natural father, eh? Harkye, Oriana, what think you now of a fellow that can eat and drink ye a whole louis-d'or at a sitting? He must be as strong as Hercules, life and spirit in abundance. Before Gad, I don't wonder at these men of quality, that their own wives can't serve 'em. A louis-d'or a head! 'tis enough to stock the whole nation with bastards, 'tis, faith. Mr. Dugard, I leave you with your sister. [Exit. Dug. Well, sister, I need not ask you how you do, your looks resolve me; fair, tall, wellshaped; you're almost grown out of my remembrance. Ori. Why truly, brother, I look pretty well, thank nature and my toilet; I eat three meals a day, am very merry when up, and sleep soundly when I'm down. Ori. Lookye, brother, you were going a rambling, and 'twas proper, lest I should go a rambling too, that somebody should take care of me. Old Monsieur Mirabel is an honest gentleman, was our father's friend, and has a young lady in this house whose company 1 like, and who has chosen him for her guardian as well as I. Dug. Who, Mademoiselle Bisarre? Ori. The same; we live merrily together, without scandal or reproach; we make much of the old gentleman between us; and he takes care of us; we eat what we like, go to bed when we please, rise when we will, all the week we dance and sing, and upon Sundays go first to church, and then to the play.Now, brother, besides these motives for choosing this gentleman for my guardian, perhaps I had some private reasons. Dug. Not so private as you imagine, sister; your love to young Mirabel is no secret, I can assure you; but so public that all your friends are ashamed on't. Ori. O'my word then, my friends are very bashful; though I'm afraid, Sir, that those people are not ashamed enough at their own crimes, who have so many blushes to spare for the faults of their neighbours. Dug. Ay but, sister, the people say Ori. Pshaw, hang the people; their court of inquiry is a tavern, and their informer claret; they think as they drink, and swallow reputations like loaches: a lady's health goes briskly round with the glass, but her honour is lost in the toast. Dug. Ay; but, sister, there is still some. thing Ori. If there be something, brother, 'tis none of the people's something; marriage is my thing, and I'll stick to't. Dug. Marriage! Young Mirabel marry! He'll build churches sooner. Take heed, sister; though your honour stood proof to his home-bred assaults, you must keep a stricter guard for the future: he has now got the foreign air, and the Italian softness; his wit's improved by converse, his behaviour finished by observation, and his assurances confirmed by success. Sister, I can assure you he has made his conquests; and 'tis a plague upon your sex, to be the soonest deceived by those very men that you know have been false to others. Ori. For heaven's sake, brother, tell me no more of his faults; for if you do, I shall run mad for him: say no more, Sir; let me but get him into the bands of matrimony, I'll spoil his wandering, I warrant him; I'll do his business that way, never fear. Dug. Well, sister, I won't pretend to understand the engagements between you and your lover; I expect when you have need of my council or assistance, you will let me know more of your affairs. Mirabel is a gentleman, and, as far as my honour and interest can reach, you may command me to the furtherance of your happiness: in the meantime, sister, I have a great mind to make you a present of another humble servant; a fellow that I took up at Lyons, who has served me honestly ever since. Ori. Then why will you part with him? Dug. He has gained so insufferably on my good humour, that he's grown too familiar; but the fellow's cunning, and may be serviceable to you in your affair with Mirabel. Here he comes. Enter PETIT. Well, Sir, have you been at Rousseau's? Pet. Yes, Sir, and who should I find there but Mr. Mirabel and the captain, hatching as warmly over a tub of ice, as two hen pheasants over a brood.-They would not let me bespeak any thing, for they had dined before I came. Dug. Come, Sir, you shall serve my sister; I shall still continue kind to you.-Wait on your lady home, Petit. [Exit. Pet. A chair, a chair, a chair! Ori. No, no, I'll walk home, 'tis but next door. [Exit. SCENE II-A Tavern. MIRABEL and DURETETE rise from the table. Mir. Welcome to Paris once more, my dear captain; we have eat heartily, drank roundly, paid plentifully, and let it go for once. I liked every thing but our women, they looked so lean and tawdry, poor creatures! 'tis a sure sign the army is not paid.-Give me the plump Venetian, brisk and sanguine, that smiles upon me like the glowing sun, and meets my lips like sparkling wine, her person shining as the glass, and spirit like the foaming liquor. Dur. Ah, Mirabel, Italy, I grant you; but for our women here in France, they are such thin brawn-fallen jades. Mir. There's nothing on this side the Alps worth my humble service t'ye-Ha, Roma la santa! Italy for my money; their customs, gardens, buildings, paintings, music, polices, wine, and women! the paradise of the world; -not pestered with a parcel of precise old gouty fellows, that would debar their children every pleasure that they themselves are past the sense of: commend me to the Italian familiarity: Here, son, there's fifty crowns; go pay your girl her week's allowance. Dur. Ay, these are your fathers for you, that understand the necessities of young men; not like our musty dads, who, because they cannot fish themselves, would muddy the water, and spoil the sport of them that can. now you talk of the plump, what d'ye think of a Dutch woman? But Mir. A Dutch woman's too compact; nay, every thing among them is so; a Dutch man is thick, a Dutch woman is squab, a Dutch horse is round, a Dutch dog is short, a Dutch ship is broad-bottomed; and, in short, one would swear the whole product of the country were cast in the same mould with their cheeses. Dur. Ay, but, Mirabel, you have forgot the English ladies. Mir. The women of England were excellent, did they not take such insufferable pains to ruin what nature has made so incomparably well. But come, Duretete, let us mind the business in hand; mistresses we must have, and must take up with the manufacture of the place, and upon a competent diligence we shall find those in Paris shall match the Italians from top to toe. Dur. Ay, Mirabel, you will do well enough, but what will become of your friend? you know I am so plaguy bashful, so naturally an ass upon these occasions, that Mir. Pshaw, you must be bolder, man: travel three years, and bring home such a baby as bashfulness! A great lusty fellow! and a soldier! fie upon it. Dur. Lookye, Sir, I can visit, and I can ogle a little-as thus, or thus now-but if they chance to give me a forbidding look, as some women, you know, have a devilish cast with their eyes or if they cry-what d'ye mean? what d'ye take me for? Fie, Sir, remember who I am, Sir-A person of quality to be used at this rate! 'egad, I'm struck as flat as a frying pan. Mir. Words o'course! never mind 'em : turn you about upon your heel with a jantee air; hum out the end of an old song; cut a cross caper, and at her again. Dur. [Imitates him.] No, hang it, 'twill never do.-Oons, what did my father mean by sticking me up in a university, or to think that I should gain any thing by my head, in a nation whose genius lies all in their heels ?Well, if ever I come to have children of my own, they shall have the education of the country; they shall learn to dance before they can walk, and be taught to sing before they can speak. Mir. Come, come, throw off that childish humour; put on assurance, there's no avoiding it; stand all hazards, thou'rt a stout lusty fellow, and hast a good estate; look bluff, Hector, you have a good side-box face, a pretty impudent face; so, that's pretty well.-This fellow went abroad like an ox, and is returned like an ass. [Aside. Dur. Let me see now how I look. [Pulls out a pocket-glass, and looks on it.] A side-box face, say you?-'Egad, I don't like it, Mirabel.-Fie, Sir, don't abuse your friends. I could not wear such a face for the best countess in Christendom. Mir. Why can't you, blockhead, as well as I? Dur. Why, thou hast impudence to set a good face upon any thing; I would change half my gold for half thy brass, with all my heart. Who comes here? Odso, Mirabel, your father? Enter OLD MIRABEL. Old Mir. My blessing! Damn ye, ye young rogue; why did not you come to see your father first, Sirrah? My dear boy, I am heartily glad to see thee, my dear child, faith-Captain Duretete, by the blood of the Mirabels, I'm yours-well, my lads, ye look bravely, faith.— Bob, hast got any money left? Mir. Not a farthing, Sir. Old Mir. Why, then, I won't gi' thee a sous. Mir. I did but jest, here's ten pistoles. Old Mir. Why, then here's ten more; I love to be charitable to those that don't want it :Well, and how d'ye like Italy, my boys? Mir. O the garden of the world, Sir; Rome, Naples, Venice, Milan, and a thousand others all fine. Old Mir. Ay, say you so? and they say, that Chiari is very fine too. Dur. Indifferent, Sir, very indifferent; a very scurvy air; the most unwholesome to a | French constitution in the world. Mir. Pshaw, nothing on't; these rascally gazetteers have misinformed you. Old Mir. Misinformed ine! Oons, Sir, were not we beaten there? Mir. Beaten, Sir, the French beaten! Mir. Sir, the captain will tell you. Old Mir. Confound you both for a brace of cowards here are no Germans to overhear you; why don't ye tell me how it was? Mir. Why, then you must know, that we marched up a body of the finest, bravest, welldressed fellows in the universe; our commanders at the head of us, all lace and feather, like so many beaux at a ball-I don't believe there was a man of 'em but could dance a charmer, morbleau. Old Mir. Dance! very well, pretty fellows, faith! Mir. We capered up to their very trenches, and there saw peeping over a parcel of scarecrow, olive-coloured, gunpowder fellows, as ugly as the devil. Dur. 'Egad, I shall never forget the looks of them while I have breath to fetch. 173 Bis. Contracted! alack-a-day, poor thing. What you have changed rings, or broken an old broad-piece between you! Well, I must confess, I do love a little coquetting with all my heart! my business should be to break gold with my lover one hour, and crack my promise the next; he should find me one day with a prayer-book in my hand, and with a play-book another; he should have my consent to buy the wedding-ring, and the next moment would laugh in his face. Ori. O my dear, were there no greater tie upon my heart than there is upon my conscience, I would soon throw the contract out o'doors; but the mischief on't is, I am so fond of being tied that I'm forced to be just, and the strength of my passion keeps down the inclination of my sex. But here's the old gentleman. Enter OLD MIRABEL. Old Mir. Where's my wenches? where's my two little girls, eh? have a care, look to yourselves, faith, they're a coming, the travellers are a coming. Well! which of you two will what say you, mad-cap? Mirabel is a pure be my daughter-in-law now? Bisarre, Bisarre, wild fellow. Bis. I like him the worse. better, indeed you do what say you, my for himself, Sir. Old Mir. Why, that's discreetly said, and so he shall. Mir. They were so civil indeed as to welcome us with their cannon; but for the rest, we found them such unmannerly, rude, unsociable dogs, that we grew tired of their company, and so we even danced back again. Old Mir. And did ye all come back? Mir. No, two or three thousand of us stayed Enter MIRABEL and DURETETE, who salute the behind. Old Mir. Why Bob, why? Mir. Pshaw-because they could not come that night.-But come, Sir, we were talking of something else: pray how does your lovely charge, the fair Oriana? Old Mir. Ripe, Sir, just ripe; you'll find it better engaging with her than with the Germans, let me tell you. And what would you say, my young Mars, if I had a Venus for thee too? come, Bob, your apartment is ready, and pray let your friend be my guest too; you shall command the house between ye, and I'll be as merry as the best of you. [Exeunt. ACT II. SCENE I.-OLD MIRABEL's House. Enter ORIANA and BISARre. Bis. And you love this young rake, d'ye? Bis. In spite of all his ill usage? Ori. I can't help it. Bis. What's the matter wi' ye? Bis. O, hang all your Cassandras and Cleopatras for me.-Pr'ythee mind your airs, modes, and fashions; your stays, gowns, and feathers. Ori. Pr'ythee be quiet Bisarre; you know I can be as mad as you when this Mirabel is out of my head. Bis. I warrant now, you'll play the fool when he comes, and say you love him; eh? Ladies. Bob, harkye, you shall marry one of these girls, Sirrah. Mir. Sir, I'll marry 'em both, if you please. Bis. He'll find that one may serve his turn. [Aside. Old Mir. Both! Why, you young dog, d'ye banter me?-Come, Sir, take your choice.Duretete, you shall have your choice too; but Robin shall choose first. Come, Sir, begin. Mir. Let me see. Old Mir. Well! which d'ye like? Old Mir. But which will you marry? Old Mir. Neither-Don't make me angry, now, Bob; pray don't make me angry.Lookye, Sírrah, if I don't dance at your wedding to-morrow, I shall be very glad to cry at your grave. Mir. That's a bull, father. Old Mir. A bull! Why, how now, ungrate ful Sir, did I make thee a man, that thou shouldst make me a beast? Mir. Your pardon, Sir. I only meant your expression. Old Mir. Harkye, Bob, learn better manners to your father before strangers: I won't be angry this time. But, oons, if ever you do't again, you rascal, remember what I say. [Exit. Mir. Pshaw, what does the old fellow mean by mewing me up here with a couple of green girls? Come, Duretete, will you go? Ori. I hope, Mr. Mirabel, you han't for Ori. Most certainly;-I can't dissemble, Bisarre:-besides, 'tis past that, we're con-gottracted. Mir. No, no, madam, I han't forgot; I have brought you a thousand little Italian curiosi-'twas metaphysics made me an ass? It was, ties; I'll assure you, Madam, as far as a hun- faith. Had she talked a word of singing, dred pistoles would reach, I ha'n't forgot the dancing, plays, fashions, or the like, I had least circumstance. foundered at the first step; but as she is-Mirabel, wish me joy. Ori. Sir, you misunderstand me. Mir. You don't mean marriage, I hope? Dur. No, no, I am a man of more honour. Mir. Bravely resolved, captain; now for thy credit, warm me this frozen snow-ball, 'twill be a conquest above the Alps. Dur. But will you promise to be always near me? Mir. Odso, the relics, Madam, from Rome. I do remember now you made a vow of chastity before my departure; a vow of chastity or something like it; was it not, Madam? Ori. O, Sir, I'm answered at present. [Exit. Mir. She was coming full mouth upon me with her contract-Would I might despatch [To DUR. Dur. Mirabel--that lady there, observe her, she's wondrous pretty, faith, and seems to have but few words; I like her mainly; speak to her, man, pr'ythee speak to her. [Apart to MIRABEL. Mir. Madam, here's a gentleman, who de-categorematice. clares t'other. Mir. Upon all occasions, never fear. Dur. Why then you shall see me in two moments make an induction from my love to her hand, from her hand to her mouth, from her mouth to her heart, and so conclude in her bed, [Exit. Mir. Now the game begins, and my fool is Dur. Madam, don't believe him, I declare entered.-But here comes one to spoil my nothing-What the devil do you mean, man? sport; now shall I be teased to death with this Mir. He says, Madam, that you are as beau-old-fashioned contract. I should love her too, tiful as an angel. if I might do it my own way; but she'll do nothing without witnesses, forsooth. I wonder women can be so immodest. Dur. He tells a damned lie, Madam; I say no such thing: are you mad, Mirabel? Why, I shall drop down with shame. Mir. And so, Madam, not doubting but your ladyship may like him as well as he does you, I think it proper to leave you together. Enter ORIANA. Well, Madam, why d'ye follow me? [Going; DUR. holds him. Mir. You look mighty demure, Madam- [Apart. Mir. The gravity of your air, Madam, promises some extraordinary fruits from your study, which moves us with curiosity to inquire the subject of your ladyship's contemplation. Not a word! Dur. I hope in the Lord she's speechless; if she be, she's mine this moment.-Mirabel, d'ye think a woman's silence can be natural ? Ori. Have you forgot our contract, Sir? Mir. All I remember of that contract is, that it was made some three years ago, and that's enough in conscience to forget the rest on't. Ori. 'Tis sufficient, Sir, to recollect the passing of it; for in that circumstance I presume lies the force of the obligation. Mir. Obligations, Madam, that are forced upon the will are no tie upon the conscience; I was a slave to my passion when I passed the instrument; but the recovery of my freedom makes the contract void. Ori. Come, Mr. Mirabel, these expressions I expected from the raillery of your humour, but I hope for very different sentiments from your honour and generosity. [Apart. Mir. Lookye, Madam, as for my generosity, Bis. But the forms that logicians introduce, 'tis at your service, with all my heart: I'll keep and which proceed from simple enumeration, you a coach and six horses, if you please, only are dubitable, and proceed only upon admit-permit me to keep my honour to myself; for tance Mir. Hoity-toity! what a plague have we here? Plato in petticoats. Dur. Ay, ay, let her go on, man; she talks in my own mother tongue. Bis. 'Tis exposed to invalidity from a contradictory instance, looks only upon common operations, and is infinite in its termination. Mir. Rare pedantry. Dur. Axioms! Axioms! Self-evident principles. Bis. Then the ideas wherewith the mind is preoccupate. O gentlemen, I hope you'll pardon my cogitation; I was involved in a profound point of philosophy; but I shall discuss it somewhere else, being satisfied that the subject is not agreeable to your sparks that profess the vanity of the times. [Exit. Mr. Go thy way, good wife Bias: do you hear, Duretete? Dost hear this starched piece of austerity? Dur. She's mine, man; she's mine: my own talent to a T. I'll match her in dialects, faith. I was seven years at the university, man, nursed up with Barbara, Celarunt, Darii, Ferio, Baralipton. Did you ever know, man, that can assure you, Madam, that the thing called honour is a circumstance absolutely unnecessary in a natural correspondence between male and female; and he's a madman that lays it out, considering its scarcity, upon any such trivial occasions. There's honour required of us by our friends, and honour due to our enemies, and they return it to us again; but I never heard of a man that left but an inch of his honour in a woman's keeping, that could ever get the least account on't.-Consider, Madam, you have no such thing among ye, and 'tis a main point of policy to keep no faith with reprobates-thou art a pretty little reprobate, and so get thee about thy business. Ori. Well, Sir, even all this will I allow to the gaiety of your temper; your travels have improved your talent of talking, but they are not of force, I hope, to impair your morals. Mir. Morals! Why there 'tis again now-I tell thee, child, there is not the least occasion for morals in any business between you and I— Don't you know, that of all commerce in the world there is no such cozenage and deceit as in the traffic between man and woman? we study all our lives long how to put tricks upon one another-No fowler lays abroad more nets for his game, nor a hunter for his prey, than you do to catch poor innocent men-Why do you sit three or four hours at your toilette in a morning? only with a villanous design to make some poor fellow a fool before night. What d'ye sigh for? What d'ye weep for? What d'ye pray for? Why, for a husband. That is, you implore Providence to assist you in the just and pious design of making the wisest of his creatures a fool, and the head of the creation a slave. Ori. Sir, I am proud of my power, and am resolved to use it. Mir. Hold, hold, Madam, not so fast-As you have variety of vanities to make coxcombs of us, so we have vows, oaths, and protestations, of all sorts and sizes, to make fools of you. And this, in short, my dear creature, is our present condition. I have sworn and lied briskly to gain my ends of you; your ladyship has patched and painted violently to gain your ends of me.-But since we are both disappointed, let us make a drawn battle, and part clear on both sides. Ori. With all my heart, Sir; give me up my contract, and I'll never see your face again. Mir. Indeed I won't, child. Ori. What, Sir, neither do one nor t'other? Mir. No; you shall die a maid, unless you please to be otherwise upon my terms. Ori. Sir, you're a Mir. What am I, mistress? Mir. I'm glad on't-I never knew an honest fellow in my life, but was a villain upon these occasions. Ha'n't you drawn yourself now into a very pretty dilemma? Ha, ha, ha! the poor lady has made a vow of virginity, when she thought of making a vow for the contrary. Was ever poor woman so cheated into chastity? Ori. Sir, my fortune is equal to yours, my friends as powerful, and both shall be put to the test, to do me justice. Mir. What! you'll force me to marry you, will ye? Ori. Sir, the law shall. Mir. But the law can't force me to do any thing else, can it? Ori. Pshaw, I despise thee-monster. Mir. Kiss and be friends then-Don't cry, child, and you shall have your sugar-plumCome, Madam, d'ye think I could be so unreasonable as to make you fast all your life long? No, I did but jest, you shall have your liberty; here, take your contract, and give me mine. Ori. No, I won't Mir. Eh! What, is the girl a fool? Ori. No, Sir, you shall find me cunning enough to do myself justice; and since I must not depend upon your love, I'll be revenged, and force you to marry me out of spite. Mir. Then I'll beat thee out of spite; and make a most confounded husband. Ori. O Sir, I shall match ye: a good husband makes a good wife at any time. Mir. I'll rattle down your china about your ears. Ori. And I'll rattle about the city to run you in debt for more. Mir. I'll tear the lace off your clothes, and when you swoon for vexation, you sha'n't have a penny to buy a bottle of hartshorn. Ori. And you, Sir, shall have hartshorn in abundance. Mir. I'll keep as many mistresses as I have coach-horses. Ori. And I'll keep as many gallants as you have grooms. Mir. But, sweet Madam, there is such a thing as a divorce. Ori. But, sweet Sir, there is such a thing as alimony; so, divorce on, and spare not. [Exit. Mir. Ay, that separate maintenance is the devil-that's their refuge-o'my conscience, one would take cuckoldom for a meritorious action, because the women are so handsomely rewarded for't. [Exit. Enter DURETETE and PETIT. Dur. And she's mighty peevish, you say? Pet. O Sir, she has a tongue as long as my leg, and talks so crabbedly, you would think she always spoke Welsh. Dur. That's an odd language methinks for her philosophy. Pet. But sometimes she will sit you half a day without speaking a word, and talk oracles all the while by the wrinkles of her forehead, and the motions of her eyebrows. Dur. Nay, I shall match her in philosophical ogles, faith; that's my talent: I can talk best, you must know, when I say nothing. Pet. But d'ye ever laugh, Sir? Dur. Laugh? Won't she endure laughing? Pet. Why she's a critic, Sir; she hates a jest, for fear it should please her; and nothing keeps her in humour but what gives her the spleen. And then for logic, and all that, you know Dur. Ay, ay, I'm prepared: I have been practising hard words, and no sense, this hour, to entertain her. Pet. Then place yourself behind this screen, that you may have a view of her behaviour be fore you begin. Dur. I long to engage her, lest I should forget my lesson. Pet. Here she comes, Sir, I must fly. [Exit PETIT: DURETETE stands peeping behind the curtain. Enter BISARRE, with a book, and MAID. Bis. Pshaw, hang books, they sour our temper, spoil our eyes, and ruin our complexions. [Throws away the book. Dur. Eh! The devil such a word there is in all Aristotle. Bis. Come, wench, let's be free, call in the fiddler, there's nobody near us. Dur. Would to the Lord there was not. Bis. Here, friend, a minuet !-quicker time; ha-would we had a man or two. Dur. [Stealing away.] You shall have the devil sooner, my dear dancing philosopher! Bis. Od's my life!-Here's one. [Pulls him back. Dur. Is all my learned preparation come to this? Bis. Come, Sir, don't be ashamed, that's my good boy-you're very welcome, we wanted such a one-Come, strike up. I know you dance well, Sir, you're finely shaped for'tCome, come, Sir; quick, quick, you miss the time else. Dur. But, Madam, I came to talk with you. Bis. Ay, ay, talk as you dance, talk as you dance, come. Dur. But we were talking of dialectics. Bis. Hang dialectics-Mind the timequicker, sirrah. [To the fiddler.] Come-and how d'ye find yourself now, Sir? |